Joan Kilby - A Mom for Christmas

“Dear Nic,” she began. “We had a blizzard yesterday and we’re snowed in. I was afraid it would be days before I saw Aidan again but he skied over to the house. He looked so handsome with the snow in his hair....”

Nicola recalled him on the doorstep this morning, thick snowflakes falling on his green knitted hat, melting in his black eyelashes. Briefly she tried to imagine Aidan skiing miles in a blizzard just to see her. Huh. As if that would ever happen.

“He asked me to go to the Christmas Ball just as I knew he would. Your mom had a lot of confidence when it came to guys,” Nicola said in an aside to Emily and gave a small wistful sigh for her own lack of it. “Last weekend I bought a new dress—red and slinky with a rhinestone circle in the center front and cut so low you can almost see my— Ahem!” Nicola broke off. “Your mom was the most beautiful girl in all of Whistler and that dress…wow!”

Emily’s eyes were aglow. “Did she look like a fairy princess?”

“Absolutely.” A sexy young princess intent on making her Prince Charming lose his mind, Nicola thought dryly. Which Aidan had, according to the juicy bits Nicola wasn’t going to read aloud. She skipped ahead, past the ball, to a ski trip up Whistler Mountain. “Today Aidan and I skied from The Cirque down the Glacier Bowl to Camel Back then all the way down the mountain on McConkey’s.”

Nicola fell silent, thinking about the sketchy account she’d been given about Charmaine’s death. Those trails were all advanced runs for expert skiers which made her cousin’s fall all the more difficult to understand.

“More,” Emily said sleepily. “I want to hear more.”

Nicola read on, relating Charmaine’s adventures both on the mountain and après skiing, finishing, “I miss you, Nic. Whistler isn’t the same without you. Lots of love, Charmaine.”

Emily’s soft breathing was even and her eyes had fallen shut. Nicola folded the letter and tucked it back in the envelope, recalling the old days in Whistler. Her cousin had dragged Nicola to parties and dances, embarrassing ordeals for a wallflower like herself, but Charmaine always made sure some boy danced with her less popular cousin. If in hindsight her behavior seemed patronizing Nicola knew she’d meant well.

Nicola pulled the covers over her and Emily, checked that the alarm was set and turned out the light. In her sleep Emily wriggled closer. The girl’s small body snuggled against her sent a rush of tenderness through Nicola.

Poor Charmaine, never getting to see her daughter grow up.

Aidan moved carefully across the dark wind- swept ridge near Whistler’s peak, testing the stability of a fresh fall of snow with his ski pole. He and Frederik had come up the mountain on snowmobiles before dawn. Four inches of snow had fallen overnight, creating the possibility of the top layer sliding over the one beneath and starting an avalanche.

Aidan jammed his pole deep into the snow. The top layer shifted a couple of inches and stopped. He watched it a moment more then sidestepped up the slope, moving on.

Down in the valley half an hour earlier, the blurry lights of the snowplows had been traveling slowly up the highway when Aidan, half asleep, bundled Emily into the Land Cruiser. Side roads were blank white rivers and the branches of the trees lining them were weighed down with thick white clumps. At the entrance to Emerald Estates they’d gotten out at the bottom of the hill and walked up the unplowed road to June’s house where a light burned over the snow-blanketed porch.

Nicola, shivering at the gust of chill air, opened the door to his knock in a thick terry-towel robe that dwarfed her slight figure. Her smile had warmed the frigid predawn in a welcome for Emily and his daughter had readily taken her hand after hugging him goodbye.

Here on the peak, all was cold and dark. Close by, Frederik prodded another section of the ridge, working his way toward Aidan. They always operated in pairs, keeping a sharp eye out for each other. Over on Blackcomb Mountain he could hear a series of muffled booms as other members of the avalanche team “shot” the slope with sticks of an explosive emulsion.

White breath wreathing around his head, Frederik trudged across the ridge line toward him. “What do you think? Seems a little unstable to me.”

“A few sections are marginal,” Aidan agreed. “We’ll ski-cut it.”

Pink tinged the sky as Aidan made the first adrenaline-charged crossing of the pristine slope to trigger a small avalanche of the unstable surface layer. The low rumbling tremor of sliding snow made him glance over his shoulder. Balls of snow the size of small boulders tumbled down the mountain behind him. Seconds ahead of the slide, he whooshed to safety on the far side of the bowl. He lifted a hand to Frederik, giving his partner the all-clear signal. Every day Aidan took calculated risks, requiring him to think on his feet; it’s what kept the job interesting.

And a good thing, too, since he took absolutely no risks in his personal life.

By the time Aidan was making his last run the sun had risen above the mountain, turning Whistler Bowl into a glittering crystal goblet. He and Frederik returned to the bump room where the rest of the patrol was arriving for duty. The assistant patrol manager, Bob, a fit-looking fifty-year-old, briefed them on snow conditions then broke the patrollers into groups and assigned them zones. They were to ski the runs, checking for problems and fixing them before the lifts started operating.

Bob paused and a few people began to stir, thinking he was finished. Then he held up a hand. “I have an announcement. You’re all aware I was on sick leave last month. What you may not know is the reason. I suffered a minor heart attack.”

He was forced to pause while people turned to each other with expressions of shock and disbelief. When the noise died down, Bob continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since then, weighing up my options. I’ve decided to take early retirement, as of the new year.” Again, Bob had to hold up his hands to quell the clamor. “Anyone interested in my job is invited to submit an application to Human Resources. Now, let’s get out on the mountain before the skiers arrive.”

Everyone stood where they were, still stunned by the turn of events until Aidan drew on his hat and gloves and headed for the door. Then, in a swish of Gore-Tex and clumping of ski boots on wood, the ski patrollers shuffled out of the bump room.

“Aidan.” Rich’s voice brought Aidan to a halt.

Aidan signaled to Frederik to go ahead. “Hey, Rich. What’s up?”

“I can’t believe Bob’s retiring,” Rich said. “How could he have a heart attack? He’s so healthy.”

“I gather heart problems run in his family,” Aidan said. “We’re losing a friend as well as a great boss.”

Rich pulled on his gloves and took out the knitted hat stuffed in his pocket. “Will you apply for the job?”

“Probably,” Aidan said. “And you?”

“Of course. It’s a great opportunity.” He paused and squinted sideways at Aidan. “You don’t think…nah, never mind.”

“What?” Aidan glanced through the open door to where Frederik was waiting.

“I just wondered if management would give you a hard time over what happened, you know, with Charmaine.”

“That was a long time ago,” Aidan protested. But the mere reminder started a gnawing feeling in his stomach.

“You’re right. Forget I mentioned it.” Rich tugged his hat over his head and clapped Aidan on the shoulder. “Catch you later, buddy.”

He strode off, leaving Aidan in turmoil. Would the Whistler Mountain management team have forgotten, or at least forgiven, the cloud that surrounded him over what happened six years ago? Now that Emily was old enough to understand the rumors that still circulated about him, the last thing he wanted was for the circumstances of Charmaine’s death to be raked up again.